In fact, he was attentive in all regards . . . when he was around. He rarely missed breakfast or dinner, but often the noon meal and tea. If she stopped him in the hall to ask a question, or brought a concern to his attention before bed, he listened carefully and offered thoughtful answers or sound advice. If she wanted to ask him a question while he was with his men, however, she had to wait. Connor didnat expressly ban her from his study, nor forbid her from interrupting, but given his tremendous need for revenge, she imagined any disruption would be poorly received.
She wasnat sure how she felt about the arrangement. She had no reason for complaint. Connor wasnat neglecting his duties as a husband, and yet she couldnat help but feel a sliver of discontent every time he disappeared into his study with his men. And the grim smiles of satisfaction she saw on his face when he emerged again only increased her unease. Because, really, agrima was not a word that should be applicable to any aspect of a marriage in its first week.
But more than that, she was afraid for him, of what risks he might be taking. How far was he willing to go in his hunt for revenge, and what if the search led him back to prison or, G.o.d forbid, to the gallows? What if it led to nothing at all? How long would he dedicate his life to vengeance, to the exclusion of nearly everything else . . . including her?
She tried reminding herself that shead known from the start where Connoras priorities lay. Shead entered into marriage knowing full well what to expect. But none of these were effective in softening the troubling truth.
For the first time, in a very long time, she hoped for something more.
Marriage to Adelaide was all that he had hoped.
Connor arrived at this conclusion as he walked down the second floor of the family wing.
In fact, marriage was more than he had hoped. Head imagined it would be a pleasant and satisfying state of affairs. What head not expected was the sheer convenience of it all.
What color fabric did he want for the sitting room drapes? Ask my wife.
Should it be lamb or beef for dinner? Ask my wife.
A dispute between the maids? A problem with the gardener? A yen for a beautiful woman in his arms? They were all issues Adelaide was available to address at a momentas notice.
b.l.o.o.d.y brilliant inst.i.tution, marriage.
In truth, his one and only disappointment was that Adelaideas accessibility had failed to improve his ability to concentrate. He needed only to catch a hint of her scent in a room or hear the lilt of her laugh through a wall and his thoughts veered toward the extra hour head enjoyed in bed with her that morning, or the delights of the night to come, or the possibility of an afternoon steeped in pleasurea"head not tried that particular convenience as yet, but he did like thinking about it.
He began to think of it now, and had just arrived at the particularly agreeable bit in which Adelaide crooked a finger at him, when a soft sniffle and small movement in an open doorway caught his attention. Turning, Connor spied George sitting on the floor in one of the extra family bedchambers. His eyes and nose were red, and fat tears slid down his cheeks.
Something akin to fear skittered up Connoras spine. He ruthlessly shoved it aside. Children cried. It was just something they did. There was no reason for panic. No reason at all, he silently repeated as he stepped forward, then back, then forward again. And he repeated it yet again after he finally managed to cross the room, only to stand and stare helplessly at the top of the boyas head like a towering idiot.
aDonat do that.a In deference to the childas age, Connor issued the order in what he measured to be a gentle tone of voice. Evidently, the child did not agree. George looked up, widened his eyes, and burst into an earsplitting wail.
aGood G.o.d.a Connor wiggled his jaw, half expecting his ears to pop. aDonat do that either.a He crouched down, which seemed to have a calming effect on George, who traded his wails for sobs. Emboldened by the small victory, Connor took a deep breath, reached out, and gave the boy a bolstering pat on the arm.
George slumped to the floor like a deflated souffl.
Mother of G.o.d.
Now there was reason for panic. He gripped George by the shoulders and quickly tried to right him again. George crumpled back to the floor.
He tried again with the same results. ab.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l. Sit up.a Wincing, he berated himself for the slip of tongue. First head knocked the child to the ground. Now he was swearing at him. Well done.
Where the devil was his staff? Where the devil was Adelaide?
aStop this . . . George . . . This is no way to behave. Do you want the maids to think youare an infant?a The sobbing came to an abrupt stop. Slowly, and to Connoras considerable relief, George pushed himself into a sitting position and sniffled loudly. aNot infant.a aCertainly not,a Connor was quick to a.s.sure him. In truth, he was prepared to agree with anything the boy cared to say. Anything at all. So long as it kept the crying at bay. He put his hand out to pat the child, then quickly s.n.a.t.c.hed it back. aNot an infant.a George sniffed loudly and tilted his head in a quizzical manner. aNaughty.a aAre you referring to me or yourself?a He shook his head at Georgeas blank stare. Odds were he meant the swearing, and the sooner that was forgotten, the better. aNever mind. Whatas put you in such a state?a When that failed to produce an answer, Connor tried rephrasing. aWhatas wrong, George? . . . What is the matter?a Nothing. The child just sat there, staring at him with big, wet eyes, sopping cheeks, and an objectionable amount of fluid leaking from his nose.
Connor tried enunciating each word slowly and carefully as he pulled out a handkerchief and mopped Georgeas face. aWhy . . . are . . . you . . . ?a He stopped, a disturbing thought occurring to him. aYou havenat . . . Youare not still in nappies, are you?a aOuch,a George said all of sudden. He threw his elbow up, nearly catching Connor in the chin, and pointed to a patch of skin on his forearm.
Connor pulled back and stared at the spot. He couldnat find a d.a.m.n thing wrong with it, which left him guessing at what he was supposed to do next. But at least it wasnat a dirty nappy.
aI see,a he lied.
Oh, h.e.l.l. Was he supposed to kiss it? He hoped, fervently hoped, he would not have to kiss it.
aKiss.a d.a.m.n.
aIt appears to be a mild injury, George. Why donat we find your aunta"?a Georgeas lips trembled. aKiss.a Connor kissed it and was rewarded with a wide grin from George.
Well . . . there you go, he thought. That wasnat so difficult. Nothing to it, really. And since no one had been about to witness the moment, nothing lost.
aWell done, Connor.a He turned, slowly, and found Adelaide standing in the doorway, her soft brown eyes laughing.
aHow long have you been standing there?a aNot long.a But long enough, he imagined, to have spared him the indignity of playing nursemaid. aYou might have said something.a aYes.a Her lips curved up. aI might have.a Gaining his feet, he sent her a surly look. aAm I this irritating when Iam being smug?a aTwice as,a she a.s.sured him.
aExcellent.a Adelaide laughed softly and crossed the room to George. She scooped him up, planted a kiss on his arguably injured elbow, and then gave him a reprimanding scowl. aDo you know why you have an ouch, darling? Because you were poking about in here instead of sleeping in the nursery as you were told.a Connor doubted the boy fully understood what was being said. But the word asleepa seemed to hit a chord.
aNo! Down!a He squirmed in Adelaideas arms, but to no avail.
aOh, yes. Down.a Ignoring the new round of wails that followed, she walked over and tugged on a bellpull. Connor glowered at the rope. Why the devil hadnat he thought of the bellpull?
He was still glowering a moment later when a maid answered and relieved Adelaide of her loud burden.
aYouare still not entirely comfortable with him, are you?a Adelaide asked after the maid left.
The comment made him feel unaccountably defensive. aI am fond of him.a aYes, I know. I didnat mean it as a criticism.a She walked over to the bed and leaned against one of the posters. aMerely an observation. Didnat they have small children in Boston?a aYes.a He wanted to roll the sudden tension out of his shoulders. aBut they were different. They werenat quite so . . .a aQuite so what?a Adelaide prompted.
His, he thought. They werenat quite so his. aInnocent.a aAll children are innocent.a aYouave not been to the back alleys of Boston.a aAll children,a she repeated, and then studied him with a quiet intensity that made him uneasy. aIt must have been hard for you there. You were hardly more than a boy yourself.a The tension grew, pulling taut. aI was a teenager, not a child.a aDebatable,a she murmured. aHow old were you when you met Gregory and Michael?a She asked the question casually, but he knew she was pressing for information about his past. aStill a teenager.a aYou donat remember, exactly?a He remembered; he just didnat want to encourage the line of questioning.
aI was nine months past my fifteenth birthday when I escaped the ship,a he replied stiffly, hoping a quick response would put an end to the topic. aAnd four months past sixteen when I met Gregory and Michael. Life before them was difficult, but life after was not. I had food, shelter, and two savvy adults looking out for my welfare.a aWill you tell me what it was like in the press-gang?a aNo.a h.e.l.l, no.
aWhy not?a aBecause you can imagine it for yourself.a The hardships and deprivations impressed sailors experienced were hardly secret. There was no shortage of other men who were willing to speak of the constant hunger, the brutal cold of winter and stomach-churning heat of summer, the endless hours of hard labor, and the biting humiliation of knowing you were as expendable as the powder stuffed into the cannons. If she wanted specifics, she could find them somewhere else.
aYou donat like to speak of it,a she guessed.
aRemembering is not always best.a Head come to terms with those dark months and banished the fear and nightmares that had plagued him for years after his escape. d.a.m.n if he would invite them back so her curiosity might be a.s.suaged.
He waited for an argument, but she surprised him by nodding as if she understood. aWill you tell me of Boston, then? Of you and Gregory and Michael?a b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, she was like a dog with a bone. aYou want to know what sort of business we ran,a he guessed.
She tilted her head at him. aIs there a reason I shouldnat know?a He could name any number of reasons, but none that would put her off for the next thirty to forty years of marriage. He rolled the tension out of his shoulders and decided he didnat care what she knew. There was nothing head done in Boston that he wouldnat do again. Head never killed anyone, never stolen food from the mouths of babes. He wasnat ashamed of his past.
If Adelaide didnat care for the answers to her questions . . . Well, there wasnat much she could do about it now, was there? Shead signed the contract, said her vows, and taken her fifteen thousand pounds. It was too late for second thoughts.
Adelaide watched with uneasy fascination as the man shead witnessed kissing a little boyas ouch transformed into the remote, apathetic man shead met in the widowas cottage. A coldness settled over his face as he moved to lean a hip against a writing desk and fold his arms over his chest.
aForgeries,a he said suddenly and gave a careless lift of his shoulder. aWe made forgeries.a Her eyes widened. Shead expected something a mite untoward, not wholly criminal. aYou said you werenat wanted for any crime in any country.a aIam not. We were never suspected of wrongdoing, let alone charged.a aOh.a She blew out a short breath, with the ridiculous hope it might ease the tight knot in her belly. aWell, what sort of forgeries did you make?a aDeeds. Wills. Even a marriage certificate once.a Another shrug. aWhatever the customer was willing to pay for.a aDid . . .a She swallowed past a ball of fear in her throat. aDid you forge money?a His mouth hooked up in a patronizing smile. aThatas counterfeiting, love. Different skill, entirely.a She gave a small, breathless laugh. aNeedleworking and horsemanship are skills, Connor. Forgery is a crime.a In some cases, like counterfeiting, it was a hanging offense. The thought of Connor being dragged back to prison and then onto the gallows made her mouth go dry and her stomach roll. Hoping to relieve the discomfort, she straightened from the poster and walked to the nearest window.
aYouare pale,a Connor said, sounding more angry than sympathetic.
aWell, what did you expect?a She pushed the window open and let the fresh air cool her skin. aThis is disturbing news.a aItas too late for you to back out of this marriage.a His voice took on a hard edge. aI wonat allow it. Do you understand ?a She turned to face him, stunned not by his sudden anger but by the whisper of fear she heard beneath. At first glance, he looked to have not moved an inch. But upon closer inspection, she saw that head lowered his head, just a little, and his fingers were digging into the fabric at his sleeves.
aI have no intention of backing out of this marriage,a she said carefully, certain her words were important, even if she wasnat certain why. He had to know she wouldnat leave. For pityas sake, shead married him after head broken into Mrs. Cressas homea"which occurred very shortly after head been cleared of charges of highway robberya"for the express purpose of stealing another manas intended through trickery and deceit. What was a bit of forgery tossed into that unholy mess?
aBut youad like to,a Connor guessed with a sneer.
aWhat I would like is for you to cease making a.s.sumptions long enough for me to get a thought in edgewise,a she snapped, losing patience.
His lips curved up, but there was no humor in the smile. aWhat is it you want to say?a aTo know, actually. I want to know if that is how you acquired your entire fortune.a Is that where her fifteen thousand pounds had come from? Is that how he paid her brotheras debts and bought manors like Ashbury Hall? aAre you still making forgeries?a aYou can rest easy, wren. We made a small profit as criminals, but it was shipping that built our fortune. Iave not sold a forgery in more than a decade.a Oh, thank heavens. aWhy did you stop?a aWe were careful, but there is always risk. Once we had the funds to invest in other ventures, it made sense to be rid of the risk. Simple as that.a She found herself picking at the folds of the drapes and forced herself to stop. aYou are very cavalier about it.a aWhy shouldnat I be? I donat regret my actions.a He studied her a moment, then straightened and moved toward her. aAnd Iam not inclined to act the remorseful sinner for your benefit. Iad not be a legitimate man of business now if not for the profits I turned as a criminal. I did what was needed to secure my fortune.a She wasnat sure if she agreed with that a.s.sessment, but he didnat give her an opportunity to comment one way or another. He stopped just inches from her, his tall frame towering over her.
aItas your fortune as well, youall recall,a he reminded her. He lifted his hand and trailed a finger along the green velvet trim at the neck of her gown. The dress was new, expensive, and purchased with Connoras money. aWilling to give it up now that you know the unsavory truth of its origins?a He let the back of his hand brush across the sensitive skin at her collarbone and gave her a cold, mocking smile. aWhat say you, Mrs. Brice? Shall we hand it all to charity in the name of making amends? Or do you suppose you could scrounge up the fort.i.tude to stomach my ill-gotten gains awhile longer?a Adelaide studied him with curiosity. With every second that had pa.s.sed, every word that was spoken, head grown more callous, more contemptuous. He wanted her anger, she realized. He wanted her to proclaim him a hopeless rotter and toss her hands up in defeat. And she might have obliged him, if shead not heard the fear in his voice only moments before.
Holding his gaze, she reached up and placed her hand over his, trapping it in place. aMay I ask why you are going to such pains to be offensive?a aMerely reminding you who it is you married.a aI know who I married. I watched him wipe the tears from a little boyas cheeks not ten minutes ago.a A wariness settled over his features. aIs that who you think I am?a aIt is part of you.a He slipped his hand out from under hers. aThe part you like.a aI like it better than this.a He caught and held her chin; his eyes burned into hers. aI am not ashamed of any part of who I am, nor anything Iave done.a aI can see that.a There wasnat a hint of remorse in him, not one iota of regret, but there was still the fear.
It dawned on her then that it wasnat his own judgment that he feared. It was hers. She remembered something head said to her the first night theyad met, when shead admitted that she was willing to marry a man for his fortune.
aPerhaps the shame is that you were given no other choice,a she said quietly and waited while the anger in his eyes faded and the grip of his fingers relaxed. And then, because she wasnat quite generous enough to absolve the man of all his sins, she added, aIn Boston.a Connor blinked and released her. aIn . . . I beg your pardon?a aYou should be ashamed for what you did at the house party.a Astonishment, and the first light of humor, crossed his features. aSo, my misdeeds were perfectly acceptable, so long as they didnat touch you and yours, is that it?a She pretended to consider. aYes, I believe so.a He ran the back of his hand over his jaw, eyeing her with frank amus.e.m.e.nt. aWell, well, Mrs. Brice. How self-centered of you. Iad not have guessed you capable of it.a aWe all have parts,a she said softly.
Slowly, his humor faded. His gaze drifted from hers and landed on a distant spot on the floor. After a long moment, he whispered, aI suppose we do.a Shead rather see him smiling, but this new pensiveness was an improvement over his earlier mood. For now, it would have to be enough.
Believing he might like to be left alone with his thoughts, she ran a hand down his arm before stepping away.
aShall I see you at dinner, then?a He gave a small nod without looking at her, and she turned for the door. She had one foot in the hall when his voice fell on her back.
aMy father caught a poacher on the grounds once.a Slowly, she turned around again and found him standing, still as a statue, staring at the same spot on the carpet.
aI was twelve, nearly thirteen,a he continued. aHe handed the man over to the magistrate, who sentenced him to two years on a prison hulk, at my fatheras request.a She stepped back into the room, drawing the door closed behind her. aThat seems severe.a aMy father could have had him shot. He fancied himself a compa.s.sionate man.a He moved, finally, but only to turn his eyes toward the window. aI remember . . . He sat me down in the library and explained to me that there was room in the world for mercy, but none for leniency. He told me that a demonstrable lack of morality was indicative of a weak mind. Thieves like the poacher were to be pitied for their inferior make, but not coddled lest they fail to understand the purpose of the punishment and revert to their shameful ways.a aHe was wrong,a she said quietly.
aHe was, and a hypocrite to boot, as his own life was hardly free of iniquity.a He was quiet a long moment before, at last, he turned and looked at her. aI loved my father.a And he would have remembered every word of the lesson, Adelaide thought as her heart twisted. Even after head known those words to be false, they would have retained the power to turn every bite of stolen bread into sour paste and every successful illegal endeavor into a bitter accomplishment.
She ached for him, unable to imagine what that must have been like, having to choose between the fear of hunger and the fear of shaming a lost, beloved father. She wished she had the words to soothe away those memories, wished she could a.s.sure him with some confidence that his father would have been proud of the man head become. Failing those, she wished she could go back and give the baron a piece of her mind.
Because none of those were possible, she did the only thing she could think of. She crossed the room, laid her hand on his chest, and stretched up to press a soft kiss to his lips.
aIam not ashamed of you,a she whispered. And then, because the want to see him happy again was almost painful, she patted his cheek with exaggerated condescension. aBut you are exceedingly inferior of mind if you honestly believed I would give up this gown.a Connoras smile was slow and accompanied by a wolfish gleam in his eyes. His hand slid around her waist, pulling her close. Her heart skipped a beat. aWhat are you doing?a aProving you wrong.a Still grinning, he bent and gently nipped her earlobe. aYouare giving up the gown.a aWhat? No.a She laughed with both excitement and nerves as she pushed at his chest. aWeare not in our bedchamber. We canata"a aYour sister is in the garden. Your brother is in town, and George is in the nursery.a Her eyes darted at the door even as she shivered with pleasure from the feel of his mouth moving over the sensitive skin of her neck. aBut . . . the staffa"a aThey wonat intrude.a He paused to linger at the juncture of her neck and her collarbone, something that never failed to weaken her knees. aNot if they want to keep their positions.a aOh . . . Oh, buta"a He silenced her next protest with a two-p.r.o.nged approach. First, he stepped away to lock the door (a task he accomplished with commendable speed), and then he returned to take possession of her mouth with a long, lush kiss. She gave up the fight without further ado.
In truth, it had been only a halfhearted argument. She didnat want to stop. Not really. If she could, she would draw out the delicious sensation of building pa.s.sion forever.
Possibly not forever, she amended as his mouth settled over hers for an even deeper taste and pleasure built to a dizzying level. Restless, she moved against him, her fingers seeking the b.u.t.tons of his waistcoat. There was too much between them, too many layers of clothes, and she sighed with satisfaction as Connor stripped them away with quick and clever hands. She forgot her fear of discovery and heard herself moan when his tongue found the heat of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.
She forgot everything when she was with Connor like this, everything but the pleasure of the moment and the building antic.i.p.ation of what was to come. There were no secrets or bargains when they made love, no revenge and no fifteen thousand pounds. There were only expectations she knew would be fulfilled, and promises she knew would be kept.
She didnat feel like a means to an end when he laid her down on the bed. She felt like a cherished lover, a beloved wife. There were no thoughts of marionettes as she drew her hands boldly over the long line of his back and watched the fire leap in his eyes. She was powerful here, an equal to him in every way. It hadnat taken her long to discover that with a careful brush of her fingertips, she could turn Connor into a man of wild demand. Or she could sap the strength from his limbs and draw a helpless moan from his lips. The choice was hers.
She chose demanding, reaching between them to caress his manhood with a brashness shead not have imagined herself capable of only a week ago. The harsh groan that tore from his throat fed her own desire, and as his mouth and hands moved over her skin in rough insistence, she became just as helpless as Connor, just as lost to the demands of her body . . . and his.
In the mad rush to completion, she felt only the shameless joy of abandonment and the sweet thrill of knowing there was nothing Connor kept from her, nothing he held back. And in the warm glow of satisfaction that followed, she knew the rare pleasure of absolute contentment. For a little while at least, there would be no need to hope for something more. Connoras arms were tight around her, and the hard pound of his heart sounded beneath her ear.
In that moment, everything was exactly as it should be.
Chapter 23.
Adelaide maintained a buoyant mood for exactly thirty-two hours. Which was how long it took for Wolfgang to seek her out in the library and say, aI need money.a Adelaide didnat bother to look up from the small writing desk where shead laid out the plans for her garden. Shead known it would only be a matter of time before Wolfgang came to her with the demand for more funds.
aDare I ask why?a aWhat does it matter? Weare flush now, arenat we?a They were, she thought, and she meant to keep it that way. She dipped her nib in the inkwell. aWhat is it for?a aIt was just a game of cards. I hit a run of bad luck.a aYou were gambling?a Hardly an unusual pastime for a young gentleman, but in the past, Wolfgang had always preferred his wagers hold at least the taint of business. aThis is a new vice. How much?a aFour thousand.a She felt the pen slip from her fingers. aYouare jesting.a Please, please, merciful Lord, let him be jesting.
aIam not.a aHow . . .a She rose from her seat and wondered that her legs didnat fold beneath her. aHow could you? . . . So much . . . In a single night?a Shead heard of men losing entire fortunes in a single game, but those stories came from the gambling h.e.l.ls in cities like London. There was nothing like that in Banfries or any of the nearby villages.
Wolfgangas bony shoulders rose and fell dismissively. aIave told you, I had a run ofa"a aThat is not a legitimate excuse!a Sucking in a gulp of air, she pushed past him and began a fast pace in front of the fireplace. aOh, d.a.m.n you. d.a.m.n you, Wolfgang. That is nearly a third of what I have.a aItas not,a Wolfgang scoffed. aYour husbandas flush.a Disgusted, she stopped and jabbed her finger in the general vicinity of Connoras study. aWell, if itas his money youare after, go and ask him for it yourself.a Isobelas voice chimed from the doorway. aAsk who for what?a aNever you mind,a Wolfgang snapped. aThis is between Adelaide anda"a aYour behavior affects us all,a Adelaide cut in. Ignoring his mutinous expression, she waved Isobel inside. aOur brother lost four thousand pounds playing cards last night.a aWhat?a Isobel paled, her eyes widening a second before they narrowed on Wolfgang. aYou liar. Thereas not gambling such as that to be had in Banfries.a aApparently, there is,a Adelaide muttered.
aThere canat be,a Isobel insisted. aThereas no one in our village who could afford to play. No one . . .a She trailed off and stepped back from Wolfgang as if physically repulsed. aWolfgang, you didnat.a It took Adelaide a moment to follow her sisteras line of thought. She almost wished she hadnat.
It couldnat be true. It couldnat possibly be true.
aSir Robert?a She saw Wolfgangas eyes dart away, and she knew it was true. aYou lost the money to Sir Robert?! Oh, how could you? How could you possibly be so . . . so stupid?a Wolfgang opened his mouth, but she silenced him with an angry swipe of her hand through the air.
aI donat care!a If head owed the money to someone else, anyone else, she might have seen her way to helping him. But, by G.o.d, shead not help him with this. aI donat want to hear your excuses. Iall not hear one more ridiculous, selfish, infantile justification from you. Heall not have the money from me. Do you understand? Sir Robert will not touch one penny of whatas mine.a Wolfgangas lips thinned into an angry white line. aYou know what will happen if I donat pay.a aPrison again?a Isobel guessed, not sounding the least sympathetic. aConsequences are something to be considered before one acts like a selfish twit, not after. This is a mess of your own making. You may see your own way clear of it.a Wolfgang didnat take his gaze off Adelaide. aI wonat go alone.a A shiver pa.s.sed over her skin. aWhat does that mean?a His lips thinned briefly. aA boy belongs with his father, donat you think?a Isobelas gasp blended with her own. It was not unheard of for children to live in debtorsa prison with their parents. But shead never met a man willing to subject his child to such a fate out of spite. She would never have guessed Wolfgang to be that sort of man.
aYou cannot mean it,a Isobel whispered.
aI do.a Adelaide shook her head. aWhatas happened to you? What have you become?a aA man,a Wolfgang bit off. aA grown man b.l.o.o.d.y tired of taking orders from his own b.l.o.o.d.y sisters.a Isobel spun to face her. aFetch your husband. Heall not stand for this.a Adelaide swallowed hard. She couldnat go to Connor now. He was with his men in the study.
Wolfgang sneered. aOh, by all means, bring the matter to the attention of Mr. Brice. No doubt heall be keen to keep me under his roof after learning of this.a Isobel shook her head in denial. Adelaide remained utterly still, rooted to the spot by shock and heartache.
Sensing victory, Wolfgang sniffed and shot the cuffs of the coat shead paid the tailor for only days before. aIf I am forced out of this house for any reason, then I take George with me. Understood? Have the money ready before the end of the week.a He walked past them, back straight and eyes fixed on the open door.
aWolfgang Ward,a Isobel called out. She waited for him to turn around, then she lifted her chin and spoke the words Adelaide had long feared resided in her own heart. aYou are not my brother.a A hint of something that might have been pain crossed his face, but it disappeared as quickly as it had arrived.
aEnd of the week,a he repeated and left.
What followed was a long, painful silence broken only by the sharp retort of Wolfgangas boots echoing down the hall. The sound faded, then disappeared.
aWhat will we do?a Isobel whispered at last.
aI donat . . .a Adelaide shook her head helplessly. She didnat know. She couldnat think. They were supposed to be safe now. George was to have a nanny, and toys, and treats, anda"
aI wonat let him take George. I wonat. I wonat.a The sharp note of panic in Isobelas voice yanked Adelaide from her stupor.
aNo, we wonat,a she agreed, careful to keep her voice calm and even. aWeall think of something. Right now . . . Right now, I need you to speak with the staff. See if theyave heard rumors about where Wolfgang was last night and who else wasa"a aWhat good will that do? We knowa"a aWe know only what he told us. Maybe there were witnesses to the game. Maybe there are whispers of cheating. Iad not put it past Sir Robert. Every bit of information helps.a aYouare right.a Isobel nodded her head vigorously as if trying to convince the both of them. aOf course youare right. Iall see whatas to be learned.a Isobel spun about and dashed out the door, leaving Adelaide alone in the library with her fear. Shoving it aside, she slipped off her shoes and began to pace again with brisk, purposeful strides.
She walked for what felt like hours, until the heels of her feet grew tender and her legs began to throb. It was easy to ignore the physical discomfort. The turmoil in her heart and mind all but drowned it out.
She had to make a decision. She had to make the right decision. She couldnat afford to make a mistake. But no matter how she turned the puzzle, no matter from which angle she looked at the problem, she couldnat come up with a solution.
If she paid the price and kept silent, George would be safe. But only until Wolfgang made his next demand. She didnat doubt for a moment that there would be a next demand, and a next, and a next. Eventually, her funds would be gone and she would have to turn to Connor for more. He would toss Wolfgang out, and Wolfgang would take George with him.